Ashes: A Hunger Games Epilogue Fanfiction
by MyWordsAreMyInsanity
Summary: After the Revolution, the Hunger Games were continued, but in a new way. Capitol children now entered them. And this is nothing but fear to Cladia Mathers, a rebellious, 16-year-old Capitol girl who has always spurned the traditions. What will happen to her when she enters these games herself?
1. Chapter 1

**This is my very, very, very first story, so don't go hating on it! I tried my best.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own the Hunger Games. I wish I was the author, but... All rights go to Suzanne Collins the amazing person who did write it.**

Chapter 1

Long ago, a promise was made. They would keep us safe. We would be safe. It was a new age, a new nation, a chance for peace and happiness. Panem, the country of forgiveness and justice.

That was a lie.

Even before this happened, a world war erupted from chaos. Entire masses fought for what little remained. Populations were ruined like never before. And out of this rubble, this destruction came Panem. Its government was promising. It was a relief to the suffering families. But it backfired. The president was oppressive, the officials secretive, and while the rich were enjoying, the poor people so very far away from this were starving to death, yet no one cared but them. The feelings of anger solidified into action, and the people fought back. They fought with bravery, but a government is not so easily overthrown by some country folk with bricks. The rebellion was squashed as easily as a grape by the president, and the iron grip grew even tighter, with greater consequences than ever expected. This is where the Hunger Games were born. As a punishment to the rebels, they were forced to send their children, one girl and one boy every year, to an arena to fight to the death for their viewing pleasure. Pleasure! Pleasure, while people starve? Pleasure, while they live in fear, while they watch their friends slowly die in a horrible way? See, this is not safe at all. The promise they made to us, it was all fake. They are forcing horrors on us as a cruel punishment, not helping us. And it took seventy-five years for them to realize this enough so as to take action. Long ago, a promise was made. And long ago, a promise was broken. Now, this must be righted. The final rebellion took place, in even greater numbers and strength. There was much fighting, plenty of death. I remember the fear I felt as I peered out the window and watched the arrows fly. The black arrows. And all of that shouting, the screaming… I shiver to think of it. But finally, it worked. The Capitol government was overthrown, and the people won. They took the government. Yet they have proven something. They are not all about peace either. I fear for myself! It's terrible, what they have done to us…

I break off as a knock sounds on my door. My pen is shoved under my low bed along with my journal and other things that should be kept secret. My father enters the room and sighs as he looks at the rough wooden furniture and the bare walls.

"Cladia." His voice is nothing but a stern whisper. "It's time." And without a word, he leaves.

Oh, yes. I remember. The reaping. I now walk to my possible death.

I live in the Capitol. The large, beautiful city at the heart of Panem. Loved by its citizens, despised by all others. The very center of the monster. After the rebellion, a decision was made by the survivors. As a return punishment for the Hunger Games, the Capitol children would now have to enter their own Hunger Games, almost identical except for a few rule changes. Twenty-four Capitol girls, twenty-four boys, are sent into the arena, to fight each other until there is only one. I shiver at the thought. There are two per region. What most of the District people never learned is that the districts are modeled after the Capitol in another way. There are twelve regions in the Capitol, just like the twelve districts. When District 13 was destroyed, the people living in Region 13 were forcibly removed and dispersed to other regions. I live in Region 2, one of the richest regions. Regions 1 and 2 are reserved for government officials and very important people. This is why I hate living there. The wealth decreases as the regions go back, but Region 12 isn't too bad off. Not like the districts were.

Of course, the Capitol citizens are not used to experiencing the horror of the Games up close. They are used to luxury, to enjoying these events, not watching them with a feeling they have rarely felt before: Fear. They fear nothing here. The citizens' lives are soft and filled with content. They wear lavish clothes and decorate their homes in outrageous colors. They eat the finest food, receive an education, and get a job, everything they can imagine!

And it's despicable to me.

I have always hated the Capitol ways. This is actually very ironic. My name is Cladia Mathers, and I am from one of the richest, most important families in the Capitol. Back before the district rebellion, during the original Hunger Games, my father was a Gamemaker, and my mother traveled around with District 8, you know, drawing the names, organizing things. As you can tell, my family was very "big" on the Hunger Games and everything to do with the fancy lifestyle of a Capitol citizen. I suppose that I had a different way of thinking. Instead of seeing the Districts as disobedient peasants, so to speak, I saw poor, starving individuals. Everything that they taught us in school was wrong to me. And I did not believe in dressing up in the traditional clothes, either. When they turn sixteen, a Capitol child is expected to start wearing full-on costumes. Wigs, jewels, ridiculous makeup, dresses, everything. But when I turned sixteen, exactly one month ago, I kept my lanky brown hair in a messy braid. My pale face and hazel eyes remained paint-free, and I kept wearing the same patchy brown tunic and brown pants that I had made in the efforts of my protest. Yes, I went that far. Even my bedroom was untouched. I scraped off the pink paint and pulled in a lopsided wooden bed from the junkyard, which sits in exile a mile away from any civilization. Nobody who is anybody would go near there. Only in the Capitol. I sigh.

The road to the reaping is long. When I get there, there are already hundreds of people, both spectators and children alike. I spot my family. My parents, of course, avoid my eyes as they briskly walk towards the spectators. My siblings cling to them. Lilia, the oldest, who is eighteen, tries to remain dignified, but I can tell she is silently crying as she holds on to the younger ones. Rosemary is just six, yet she still understands she might lose us, as she is now openly grimacing and burying her round, pretty face in my mother's curly red hair.

The process of registration is also tedious. They prick my fingers, and apparently my name is checked off somewhere in a machine. I notice these people look like they are from the Districts, not the Peacekeepers that have always done it in years past. Practically the whole country is run by the ones who fought against the Capitol.

The anthem blares, and I know it's time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the short chapter, I just thought that the end was a good place to leave off. Thanks for reading! Yeah...**

I line up in the section for the sixteens. They all look terrified. Some are fanning their faces, others with anxious expressions. One has even fainted. No one is used to this. After all, it's the very first Hunger Games in the Capitol. Soon, a girl of about nineteen climbs up onstage and begins reading something about how the districts rebelled against the oppressive Capitol. I don't even need to hear her speak before I know who she is.

Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay.

This is the girl who ran the revolution. She gave hope to the Districts, and was the only person to ever come out of the arena as one of two victors. The second of the pair, Peeta Mellark, is there with her. He has a serious expression on his face, and he sits in a chair some way back next to two older men. Once she finishes the long speech, she briskly walks over to a glass bowl and sticks her hand in it. I wait with baited breath as she draws it out of the bowl. Painfully slow. The tension has mounted. My hands are shaking, and I can hardly breathe. I'm not nervous. I can't be. I must breathe. But I can't as she walks back to the podium and calls out a name. I couldn't even hear her, but somewhere deep down I know, as my heart beats twice as fast, my palms sweat, and there's a shake in my step. Before I know it, I'm up on that stage, because I'm the one she has called. It's my turn to go into these games. The fact is unbearable. Apparently, she's called the male tribute too, because I look over and I see the one person I never hoped to see. Quite possibly my worst enemy. The male tribute this year is unfortunately him, Travis Aison. He helped me, but I hate him for it. I think back to the first time I ever saw him, about a year ago. It was also the first time my father ever harmed me. I don't even remember what I had done wrong, but there I was, and in his fit of rage, the blow came. He's often like this, and he goes in and out of these fits. And I simply stood there, shaking, with tears streaming from my eyes. It was quite embarrassing, then, to have a boy about my age, one that I had seen around school but never talked to, walk out from behind a tree and start to hug me. Hug me. Honestly. He was watching the whole time. But he just sat down next to me and held me, a complete stranger, and told me to talk. About everything. I found it quite ridiculous, but in my damaged state, I did. I confessed everything I had ever known, ever feared, ever hoped, to someone I had spoken but one word to. Soon after, I realized what I had done, I ran. I ran from the fact that I felt something, anything at all. I ran from the fact that maybe, just maybe, I had a friend. That someone was there for me to trust, to love. It's all confusing. Everything is a mess, and a tangled web I can't decipher. But now is not the time. By now, it's time to go. I expect to get onto the car that will take us to the Capitol, but instead I am directed to another building. Oh, yes, I forgot. I have to see my family now.

I sit down on the plush chair and wait. And wait. Soon an hour has passed and I am still alone. Someone comes in and I look away. It's Katniss Everdeen. What does she want?

"Cladia." she whispers. I blink and stare and the ground. "Cladia," she says again. "Don't you have any visitors? Any family?"

This time, I do not hesitate. I stand up, and my voice shakes as I reply, "No. There is no one I love anymore."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys, sorry that this is late! I made it longer! And also, sorry about the really bad chapter before this, I promise to make it up to you!**

Chapter 3

I can feel her stares, but I ignore the burning urge to run away.

"Where's the car? Are we leaving?" I say briskly. Katniss watches me for a moment longer and wordlessly leads me outside to our departure vehicle, a sleek black car. We don't have to travel long, as the site of the Games is right here in the Capitol. I sit in silence, refusing to talk to anyone, not her, not the man driving, who I believe was a part of the revolution also, and especially not Travis Aison, my fellow tribute. I must stay enemies with him. No connection whatsoever if I am to stay alive, which is highly unlikely.

Soon, we reach the tall building that once was the Training Center. I suppose we go to the second floor, because as soon as we get in there, Katniss pushes the elevator button and we ride up. In complete silence.

I cannot help but admire how amazing the Tribute Tower is. After living in the Capitol, it's pretty hard, but our floor is decorated with sleek steel furniture and everything is in either gray or a dark color. We run straight to the dining room, where a meal is set out for us. Some things haven't changed, because Avoxes are still serving the tributes. I wonder why, if the rebels are against anything Capitol-like.

"They serve willingly. They want to help." says Katniss, as if reading my thoughts. We sit down, and the meal begins. It's oddly quiet, not just because there are three people here, but because no one wants to speak. The whole thing is strange. They just drop us here, we eat without any questions, and not a word is spoken about anything.

I'm too sick to eat. It's impossible. I'm in the Games, after all. So I take in my companions. Katniss Everdeen sits warily on her chair, watching us and occasionally taking a small bite of a roll. Travis is completely unaware. I watch, half in disgust, as he quickly eats the sweet-smelling rice and meat stew. Of course, he has manners. He's from a rich family, as is the unfortunate custom in Region 2. He's rather scrawny, though, for having everything you want all your life. He's slender, but tall, and his smooth black hair falls over his forehead and just slightly covers his eyes. His gray eyes are narrowed, so even though he's not as bulky as other tributes, he looks clever and sly, as if he's planning something.

All of a sudden, he looks up at us. The fork clatters to the table, and he shrinks back in his seat.

Finally, I think. We're in the Hunger Games, you idiot. Be aware of your surroundings!

"Ahem." I look over and see that Katniss is looking at us pointedly. I raise my eyebrows.

"What is it?" I mutter.

"I'm going to be mentoring you, if you haven't figured it out already," she sighs. "And we need a plan. First off, do you want to be coached separately? Any secret talents, or for whatever reason?"

"Yes," I blurt, at the same moment Travis says, "No." I glare at him, but he holds my gaze. I finally give up.

"Fine. It doesn't matter." I say as I shake my head. I'm going to be ruined in the arena.

"All right then," says Katniss, looking between us. It's obvious something negative is going on. "It's time to meet your stylists and prepare for the chariot ride."

Oh, yes. I also forgot about that.

The Regions don't really have anything special about them, so I have no idea what we'll be dressing up as. Whatever we want? I snort. That would never happen.

I find out as we take the trip to the Remake Center and enter an empty room. I hate the costumes of the Capitol, so naturally this is my least favorite part, aside from the Games themselves. And then my stylist enters. She's a short, thin woman with traditional Capitol clothes. In her case, they're a bright blue wig with feathers weaved in, abnormally large eyes with an unnatural purple color, and a long dress that seems to be made of pure gold, as it swishes and shines when she moves.

"Hello, Cladia." she says loudly. "I'm your stylist, Vienna."

I dislike her immediately.

When we get started, it's a slow process full of pain. First, we have to wax every inch of hair on my body, which takes two hours. Then a scrubbing treatment that smells like salt and rotten eggs, and following that a hair wash, nail things, and about everything you can think of. This is why I don't like getting dressed up.

Finally, we're done, after hours of washing, trimming, and painful pruning. I slip into my robe and we eat a quick lunch in silence. Vienna makes several attempts at cheery conversation, but I sullenly nod, shake my head, or simply stay silent.

"Now for your costume!" Vienna squeals with delight. I groan. She pulls something out of a tall wardrobe and holds it up. "For the Capitol Hunger Games, each Region wears a costume representing what their district equivalent does. You're Region 2, so you'll be doing masonry.

Great.

My outfit consists of gray boots that buckle up to my knees, a silvery jumpsuit with spiky points coming out of the fabric, and a headpiece with miniature jagged stones sticking out. Obviously rocks, to represent masonry.

I'm then whisked away to the starting area, where all of the chariots are kept until the opening ceremony. Travis has the same clothes, of course. We climb into our chariot in complete silence. I refuse to talk to him. The other tributes watch us, some with fear, some with an interested menace. This only tells me there will be a traditional Career tribute and everyone else lineup. I suppose we'll be part of it, which is hard to process. I don't know what to think.

But I don't have time to do even that, because now we're off around the circle. The rows and rows of people surround us. Everyone is clapping and cheering.

"I hate how they're cheering," says Travis quietly. I nod tersely, but this short conversation does not continue.

We pull up to the balcony, where there are about five important-looking people looking down on us. One of them is Katniss, our mentor. She seems to stare right at us as she says, "Welcome to the first Capitol Hunger Games, and may… the odds be ever… in your favor."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone. I'm so, so, so, so, soooooooo sorry that this chapter is really late! With the holidays and all, and then I got the flu. Murp, I hate the flu! I'll try to update more. Oh, and this is kinda short, but I tried to make it both long and published quickly. So... Yup.**

_Thud._

I've once again hit the ground. It's the first day of training, and I have just been knocked over by a trainer for the millionth time.

"Cladia, you have to focus!" he exclaims. Kerin is in charge of the hand-to-hand combat station, and while swinging knives and fists at each other, he knocked me off my feet. "Combat is not just having the skills in weaponry, it's concentrating and staying calm and aware!"

I do nothing but grumble and get up, wincing as I flex my sore arms. "I'm leaving now. Bye." I don't care that Kerin looks offended, that the Region 9 tributes sharing the station with me are watching with wide eyes, I just need to get away. I know I'm not going to live if I don't learn to fight, but what hope is there? I'm terrible at it, and I will never learn.

I wander over to the archery station, where my fellow tribute Travis is learning to shoot. I must admit, he's terrible. In fact, so far, as I can tell from watching him, he's not very talented at fighting. He seems weak, almost. Incapable of fighting, or just unwilling.

"Hey." he mumbles to me, still concentrating on his bow. His hand is drawn back, but it's wobbly, and when he lets go, the arrow flies far away from the target. "I'm not very good at this."

_Hardly, _I think to myself, but I just give a noncommittal shrug. "It's just archery. I'm sure you're good at other things." Not really. But why not pretend?

Travis sighs. "I just-" He's interrupted as a bell sounds and all of the tributes rush out. "Lunch." He mutters.

Oh, good. I'm starving.

But when we get there, I'm not so enthusiastic. The tributes from regions 1 and 3 are grouped together and motion us towards them. Right. We're the new Career Tributes, the richest and best of them all banding together.

I reluctantly sit down next to a tall blonde girl from Region 3. She glances at me, obviously sizing me up.

"Decent enough. Okay, let's talk," she decides. For some reason, Travis hangs back. He's supposed to be with us. But I suppose it's due to his inadequate performance in training. He must not think he's strong enough to keep up with the Careers.

The whole time, the tributes at my table boast about their skills.

"I can take down ninety tributes a minute with my knife throwing." says one. It's impressive, but why do you need to take down ninety tributes? There's only 23 others.

I reflect on how ironic this is. The first Games, and we've already settled into the traditional positions. Richest regions proving their superiority by banding together to hunt down the weak, the less worthy.

I feel a poke in my side and snap my head up. The bulky male tribute from Region 1 is staring at me pointedly. I feel disgruntled by his anger.

"What is it?" I ask with a sharp edge of irritability in my voice. He smirks.

"Ooh, attitude. I said, what's your talent? What can you do in the arena, Region 2?" says the boy. I stare at him for a moment as I try to figure out my words. Special talents? Try none.

"I'm quick and clever. No one can catch me. And, I can hide, and… um, throw… knives." I stammer. I can't actually throw knives, but I am quick, and small and light enough to run fast.

The blonde girl sitting next to me snorts. "Titan, do you actually believe that?"

Titan? I have to admit, it suits him. Big, strong, and brutish.

Titan considers this. "Not sure. Haven't seen her throw knives too much."

"Wait, you're not from Regions 1 or 3," I blurt, pointing at a scrawny, ashen-haired boy sitting at the far edge of the table. He seems to sit back and watch us, but the gleam in his eye makes my stomach churn with uneasiness. Like the way he watches us is how a lion watches a herd of gazelles, trying to decide which one to eat first.

The boy smiles slyly. He reminds me of a fox, the way he grins at me, the way he leans back and observes us in a quiet but unsettling way. "Conor, Region 12." he says.

So he's from the very last Region. This is unexpected, since in the past, the Careers are made up of a certain group of Districts, or in our case, Regions. But he must be an exceptional fighter, because they occasionally take in a somewhat talented tribute.

And this worries me somewhat. If the new Careers are willing to take in another fighter, the crowd must be better that I would expect. Which means I must learn to fight. It's my only chance at life, but it is a very impossible chance.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone! I'm just saying, I am so, so, so sorry for this late chapter! I'm just busy and forgetful and stuff. And, I apologize for this terrible chapter. It's really really awkward and terrible. Please forgive me.**

My breath comes in ragged gasps. My forehead is plastered with sweat. Yet I still feel a grim determination burning like a wildfire. I am determined to live. To stay alive, I vowed to fight. I've been training hard; throwing knives and spears, tying knots, starting fires, and practicing hand-to-hand combat until my hands grew red with sores. No other tribute crossed my mind as my training consumes practically my entire being. It's the last day of training, and despite all this preparation, I am worried. Will I have enough skills? What is my special skill anyways? I have nothing to show the Gamemakers, whoever they are, when I walk into the room for my private session. This terrifies me.

As I am about to throw my last knife, a booming voice sounds. "Tributes, please report to the waiting area in preparation for your private sessions."

My blade was aimed at a dummy's neck, but panic and shock overwhelm me, and I end up dropping it, straight onto my foot, where it pierces through the thin leather shoe and cuts a sizeable gash.

_Great,_ I think. _Now I have an even bigger disadvantage._

I try not to think about this as I sit nervously on the edge of a chair and try to staunch the flow of blood from my foot.

"Injury already?" I hear a voice say. I glance over impatiently and see Travis, my fellow tribute. He doesn't seem nervous at all, which is strange, as he hasn't been very good at much. But I haven't really been paying attention to him anyways…

"Knife accident." I say shortly as I press my sleeve to my wound. I add a "Good luck, I suppose." But I'm not sure if I mean it. I have no clue how I feel about Travis. I don't know him very well, but a part of me wishes I did.

"You too," he says softly. Then, he does something that surprises me. He nudges my sleeve away from my cut and presses his own against it. I feel the urge to push him away, but I sit there, stunned. What is he doing?

"What… wait, why-w-what…are-y-you…" I stammer. He ignores me, and continues to dab his sleeve on my injury. He then rips off a part of the fabric and ties it around my foot.

"There, temporary bandage." He mutters, and he's turned away in isolation as quickly as he came up to me.

Well, that was confusing.

And then he's gone. He's been called in. I'm next. I'm next! The anxiety is almost overwhelming. Everything feels like it's closing in. I have to run, but there's only one place to run. And I soon find myself in that place.

The training area. In front of the Gamemakers. Alone.

I don't know what I'm going to do, so I'll just do the only thing I know. What I've learned in my short time here at the Training Center. I pick up a bundle of knives, head to a dummy, and start throwing. Each hits a fatal place. Neck, head, heart. Not too awful. I continue to throw until my hands are sore, after which I hesitate. I'm not really sure of what to do now. There is a large rope and net course to teach tributes to climb trees and evade danger, but what is the impressive part of that? I'm really just scaling a rope or two. Yet I have no choice, for I still walk wearily up to the course, holding my last three knives carefully. I rapidly ascend the net and perch myself between two thin, precariously hanging straps, just barely clinging to them with my legs. Then I get an idea. I grasp the first knife and aim at the target, fifty feet away. It tears through the air and impales the center. And so goes the second, and the third. There is the end, the end of my display. I feel somewhat mixed feelings. Pride? Astonishment, that I did not fail. And most of all, even more anxiety. I still do not compare to any of the tributes. I do not stand out, and I am worried that I will have no chance at surviving in the arena.

**And that's it! Please review! I've done 5 chapters and only have 3 reviews! You can do better than that! Please? Okay, thanks :P**


	6. Chapter 6- Author's Note

**Hello everyone. Sorry about this, but it's Author's Note time. I just wanted to thank the two people that reviewed:**

**Trollalala (LALALALAAAA LALALALAAAAA!)**

**gillianhinton**

**If you're reading this, thanks!**

**And I apologize for making my chapters so short, I try my best, and it's one of my first fanfictions, so...**

**I just wanted to say... please review! Please! It's not that hard! Even if it's three words, it makes me super happy and motivates me to write better/more!**

**REVIEWS= HAPPY AUTHOR= MORE WRITING= BETTER CHAPTERS= HAPPIER YOU!**

**See? Basic math! It's true!**

**Oh, and I'm having trouble thinking of names for the many characters to come. If you could just help me and give a couple girl or guy names, I would be super super thankful and I'd give you cookies and be your bestest friend!**

**I promise to the bottom of my heart, stick with this story, and it gets soooooooooo much better once they're in the Games. I swear, I have a super huge/dramatic ending planned, you will love the Games part of the story! I swear!**

**Okay thanks :)**


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